


flashes appeared at the corner of my eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Everyone is mentioned at some point - Freeform, F/F, and tumblr prompts, reupload of old fics, title of compilation from Florence + The Machine's "Light Of Love"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24213007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: mostly just a collection of loosely connected old fics(Kara still looks and Lena - and Lena still smiles, her pain echoing Kara’s own.)
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 29
Kudos: 137





	1. let out lungs breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But it’s not like — she can’t just say that the cold in the air reminds her of the years she spent in the Phantom Zone, that she didn’t want to bother Alex about it again (even though she knows her sister would have been more than happy to hold her hand through this)._
> 
> _But Lena isn’t staring at her with anything but gentle concern, and Kara thinks that maybe she understands what Kara is struggling to put into words. Especially when she folds a hand over her forearm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from: bigger than love by oh wonder

It’s the first snow of the year, and Kara only notices it when she’s flying from the DEO to L-Corp.

Wind whistles in her ears, rakes through her blonde tresses, and then she feels it — feels a cold prick of, of _something_ against her nose. She slows to a stop. Rights herself in midair and scrunches her brow.

She didn’t just imagine that, did she?

(Because there was this one time, _one time_ , she was so tired after dealing with a twenty foot alien when she’d thought its slimy legs were still wrapped around her ankles.

Alex had been completely unimpressed by the high-pitched squeak she’d let out.)

Oh, there it is again. Right above her left eyebrow. Kara goes cross-eyed trying to identify it, but soon enough, she catches sight of the white pinpricks falling from around her.

She gasps softly. Reaches out a hand and watches in awe as the snow drifts into her palm and melts at the contact with her skin. Her lips stretch, a wide smile gracing her features as she floats just a little higher, a little closer.

Tries not to think about how the chill in the air reminds her of something not so pleasant and soft and, and _gentle_. Tries not to think of the knot in her chest.

(There’s always been something about the first signs of more frigid winds, of the first fall of snow that takes her back to… _then_.

And just for a moment, surrounded by _white white white_ , she wants to bask in _this_ quiet — a quiet that shouldn’t be so reminiscent of the dark, or the creeping cold, or just the endless, _endless_ space.)

Kara lets herself hover before she drops her arms back to her sides and glides toward her destination. Back toward L-Corp. 

She flies slowly, laughing a little breathlessly whenever a flake of powdery snow lands on her nose again; she’s in no hurry. They hadn’t set any plans ahead of time. Kara just — she just wants to see Lena is all. Feels a tug in her chest toward her friend.

So, she takes her time. Doesn’t want to rush because this — the snow and the strange warmth that accompanies the softness of the atmosphere — makes her feel at ease, knowing that she isn’t stuck in a small pod floating aimlessly through the blackness of space while Krypton tears itself apart behind her.

She approaches a familiar balcony and hovers for a moment, gazing through the glass where Lena’s perched in front of her desk, hip resting against the edge as she holds her phone to her ear, dark hair sweeping over her shoulder.

Kara lands quietly, not wanting to startle her friend, but apparently her touch down isn’t as soundless as she assumed because Lena stiffens and looks over her shoulder, eyes widening in surprise.

Kara rushes to wave her hands, mouthing that _it’s okay_ , but Lena shakes her head, holds up a finger, and smiles apologetically. She wraps up the call in record time before she’s opening the door to the balcony and stepping outside.

“Supergirl,” she greets, canting her head, the corners of her eyes crinkling warmly at the sight of her.

“Hi,” Kara offers, sheepish. “Sorry about…” She gestures inside, to the phone now sitting face-down on the CEO’s desk.

Lena laughs, leans against the frame of the door. “I’m glad you showed up when you did.” Her grin is more crooked now; Kara would hazard to call it a smirk, actually. “That conference call was starting to become unbearable.”

“Yeah?” Kara feels less guilty about interrupting now, feels a little pleased that her friend’s shoulders sag, relaxed.

“Yeah,” she chuckles, dragging a finger through the dust of snow that’s beginning to coat the glass. She looks up suddenly, meets Kara’s eyes with her brows drawn. “We didn’t have plans, did we?”

Kara starts, cape snapping at her heels when she moves, reaches for her. “What?” She blinks owlishly, draws back again. “Oh! No. _No_ , we didn’t. I just—” She fumbles for the right words, hands flapping uselessly in front of her. “Alex and J’onn said they’ll call me in if they need anything else and…”

She’s totally messing this up. 

But it’s not like — she can’t just _say_ that the cold in the air reminds her of the years she spent in the Phantom Zone, that she didn’t want to bother Alex about it _again_ (even though she knows her sister would have been more than happy to hold her hand through this).

But Lena isn’t staring at her with anything but gentle concern, and Kara thinks that maybe she understands what Kara is struggling to put into words. Especially when she folds a hand over her forearm.

“Well, that was my last meeting of the day,” Lena says slowly, drawing out the syllables. Her eyebrow arches. “Do you want to get dinner?”

“It’s snowing,” Kara feels the need to point out. Needlessly, judging by the way Lena’s brow creeps a little higher, the green of her eyes glittering with mirth. There’s white speckling her dark hair and oh, Kara wants to reach out and touch it. Run her fingers through the strands.

“I do have a driver, Kara.”

“Oh, right.”

Lena takes her hand back, crosses her arms over her chest. Looks uncertain as she tilts her head to the side. “If you wanted to?”

“Of course I do,” Kara assures her friend quickly, bouncing on the heels of her feet.

“Are you sure?” Lena asks, shivering slightly as a colder draft of wind blows by.

Kara doesn’t respond immediately, focusing on the tiny trembles running along the CEO’s shoulders. She ushers her inside, back into the warmth.

“Yeah, definitely. I always want to eat. With you,” she adds, feeling the back of her neck flush.

Lena smiles though, soft and small. “You’re sure you don’t have any other,” her eyes flick over the crest on Kara’s chest, and she waves toward it, “duties to attend to?”

Kara shakes her head, props her hands on her hips. “Nope. I’m all yours.”

“Well,” Lena hums thoughtfully, taps her fingers along the edge of her desk. “What do you feel like eating?”

“Chinese?”

Kara thinks her heart might have expanded three times its size when Lena laughs at that, all warm and fond, and oh, she’s looking at her with so much adoration. 

“Why do I even ask?” Lena glances at the crest again. “You might want to change first.”

Kara looks down, straggling blonde tresses falling into her eyes as she takes in her full Supergirl regalia. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Meet me down in the lobby?”

“Be there in a jiffy.”

She leaves the same way she came in, shooting off the balcony before Lena can poke fun at her outdated vocabulary (but her laughter follows her as Kara soars through the air, and oh, there’s a lightness to her that wasn’t there when the snow had first begun to fall).

—

They end up walking despite Lena’s reminder of having a driver. 

Kara protests initially because Lena’s the one who is bundled up in a thick coat, hands buried deep in her pockets, but the CEO had shaken her head. _I don’t want Tom to have to deal with the crowds right now_.

Kara looks at her best friend now, shoulders scrunched up to her ears, dark strands of hair staticky near the collar of her coat, smiling encouragingly at whatever Kara’s saying, and wonders how anyone can look at Lena Luthor and think her anything but kind and sweet and just —

“Kara?”

She jolts, nearly slips along the sidewalk as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Yeah?”

“You kind of stopped mid-sentence.” There’s a pinch between Lena’s brows, a downward curve to her lips. “About the dogs you ran into this morning?”

“Oh, sorry.” Kara fiddles with the arm of her glasses, comes to a stop in front of the door to the restaurant.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Lena asks, resting a hand on her arm, warmth pooling from her fingers through the material of Kara’s sweater. “Do you need me to call Alex?”

“No, no, no,” Kara hastens to say, gesturing with her arms and staring distractedly out at the drifting snow, white and, and _not_ black, but a cold she can still feel sinking beneath her skin. She doesn’t _feel_ it, but it’s _there_ all the same. “I just…”

“Here,” Lena murmurs, as though sensing her hesitance, and moves to open the door for them to step into the restaurant. “We should probably continue this inside.”

Kara follows quickly, and they’re guided to their usual table in the back, where it’s quiet and grants them a modicum of privacy. Lena pulls out her chair for her, and Kara smiles gratefully, settling into the seat with a wiggle or two.

“This used to be my favorite time of year,” Lena sighs as soon as the waiter vanishes to retrieve their drinks. Folds her hands in her lap, and Kara leans forward, rapt with attention. 

Her friend glances away, green eyes burning amber in the low light. “At the first sign of snow, I’d haul Lex outside with me.” She pauses. Shakes her head and lets out a short puff of laughter, an old kind of pain flitting across her features. “We’d make up these ridiculous games.”

It’s hard to imagine Lex Luthor frolicking in the snow, carefree and laughing alongside a little girl, but there’s nostalgia painted across Lena’s face, a wistful tinge to the way her lips quirk, and Kara soaks it in. Memorizes every detail.

“I love the snow,” Kara starts, keeping her voice low and determinedly not meeting Lena’s gaze when she turns to look at her. “It’s just,” Kara flips her hand over in the air, reaches and strains for words that elude her. “When the cold starts to settle in, I-I remember… _things_.” 

(The cold, cold, cold of the Phantom Zone. The rocking of her pod as Krypton and her parents and friends and everything she ever knew disappeared behind her.

A blaze of color so similar to that of Rao as it too vanishes from the cosmos.

Curling into Alex under the blankets, shaking and shaking and shaking until her sister helps her put the pieces back together. Remember the brighter memories.)

She swallows thickly, blinks the sting of tears from her eyes. She feels more than sees Lena’s hand rest atop hers. A gentle squeeze.

She smiles, wobbly and unsure. “Thank you,” she whispers, and Lena nods, brows drawn, still concerned.

“How about we order double the potstickers? My treat,” Lena offers, immediately going to list off their orders when the server returns with their drinks before Kara can even get a word out.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kara tells her as soon as the waiter takes their menus.

Lena simply squeezes the hand still in hers, and Kara flips hers over. Twines their fingers. “It’s hard,” she says quietly, doesn’t quite look Kara in the eye, “losing something. I know it’s not the same as losing _everything_ , but—”

“—You lost a brother,” Kara interjects, tightening her grip on the fingers between hers. “You lost a world, too, Lena.”

(They both have. And the hurt is still there, still raw like scraped knees that never had the chance to fully heal.

Scarred hearts still beating, battered and bruised.)

Oh, Lena’s eyes are so green, glistening and open and oh, _sincere_ as they flick between Kara’s, searching.

“Yeah,” she agrees faintly. Swipes a thumb across Kara’s knuckles, over the ridge of her wrist.

(And the knot in Kara’s chest loosens, doesn’t feel as suffocating as before.)

—

It’s dark when they finish, the lights of the city bright against her eyes once they step outside. And the snow is still there, still white and silent as it drifts through the air. Powders their clothing and hair, the sidewalk.

“I think you should call Tom,” Kara suggests, mesmerized by the dancing flakes that skitter across her palms when she reaches out. Catches them on her skin.

Lena leans into her side, nods. “He’s on his way.”

Her breath tickles Kara’s neck, and Kara wraps an arm around her, pulls her closer. “Cold?”

“A little,” Lena admits, shivers as though to demonstrate. 

Kara tugs her again, feels Lena melt into her side, a warmth slotting into place where it felt cold and empty earlier that day when Alex looked at her, worry crinkling her brow, lips parting to ask if she was going to be okay.

And it’s, it’s _safe_ in this pocket of space that’s just theirs. Standing along the curb waiting for Lena driver — the hustle and bustle around them soft and distant as the snow blankets the city.

“I miss him.”

Kara almost misses it, but she catches the words, holds them close to her heart because oh, Lena’s eyes reflect the lights around them as she looks at her, galaxies swirling in those green depths.

“Is that strange?” she whispers, fingers twisting into Kara’s sleeve. “How the snow reminds me of all of these memories of before he went…” She trails off, sighs.

“No,” Kara murmurs, turns to slip her other arm around Lena’s waist, wrapping her up in a hug. “It’s not.” She glances up at the dark sky, thinks beyond the clouds that lay there to where Krypton used to be. “I miss them, too.”

Lena sags against her, hooks her chin over her shoulder and lets out a breath, heavy and weighted in a way that reminds Kara of the burden she bears herself, of Krypton across her shoulders.

They stay in that position until Tom drives up where they’re waiting, and when they settle into the backseat of the car, Kara doesn’t let go of Lena’s hand. Lena doesn’t seem to mind, seems to find comfort in the point of contact like she does. 

She lists off Kara’s address, and it sounds so instinctual at this point, to hear Lena tell Tom the directions to her apartment without so much of a second thought.

And it isn’t until they’re almost to her place when an idea strikes Kara.

When they step out of the car and make their way up the flights of stairs, she hops right to it, spinning to face Lena.

“Okay,” Kara fumbles with her keys, delving deep into the contents of her bag to locate them, “you don’t have to say yes to this, but I’m hosting a holiday party soon in the spirit of, you know, the holidays.” Lena eyes her curiously, tilts her head as Kara inserts the key into the lock. “And I was hoping you’d be there? You wouldn’t be intruding, I promise.”

Lena stops in her tracks. Simply stares blankly, and Kara starts to feel nervous. Pushes her glasses up her nose and shifts from one foot to the other. She really wants Lena to be there, wants her to not spend another holiday season alone.

Not when, when Kara can prevent that.

Lena’s lips part, breaths spilling out unevenly, and Kara’s afraid she’ll decline. But then she’s smiling, leaning against the doorframe, expression soft and fond.

“I would be honored,” she laughs, breathless and quiet. 

“So you’ll come?” Kara asks, not quite believing what she’s heard.

“Yes, Kara,” Lena grins, cheek dimpling as her lips curl. “I’ll come.”

(And later, when Kara sits by her easel paintbrush poised, studying the snow right outside her window, she’ll realize that the tightness in her chest isn’t quite there anymore, the knot loose and less constricting.

Her lungs fill with air, and oh, she _breathes_ , light and unburdened for the first time since the chill crept in.)


	2. midnight whisperings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It feels like it’s been ages since the last time she had the chance to look, really look, into those depthless pools of blue. An ocean that she spends too much of her time wondering if she’s able to drown in them._
> 
> _“I just wanted to see you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from: la devotee by panic at the disco

Lena isn’t expecting company. 

Not at — she glances at the corner of her laptop screen — 12:37 in the morning, at least. 

There’s a rap at her balcony door, and oh, that can only mean one thing. Her heart skips a beat, and a smile curls the corner of her lips, unbidden, but then she remembers herself, remembers exactly _who_ is visiting her.

She pushes herself up and out of her chair, fumbles with the latch of the door before she manages to tug it open.

Supergirl stands at the threshold sheepish, cape flicking at her ankles, blonde hair falling in tangled curls over her shoulders. She waves, and Lena shakes her head, opening the door wider so that the caped crusader can step through.

“I thought doctor’s orders specifically prohibited flying,” she chastises lightly as the superhero hops on the heels of her feet, wrings her hands. And there’s an anxious energy coming off of Supergirl when she shrugs. “ _Kara._ ”

“I know,” Kara murmurs, turning to her, and Lena doesn’t know what to say now that those blue, blue eyes are on her.

It feels like it’s been ages since the last time she had the chance to look, _really_ look, into those depthless pools of blue. An ocean that she spends too much of her time wondering if she’s able to drown in them.

“I just wanted to see you.”

Lena blinks, a rush of warmth and fondness welling between her ribs, but all she can think of now with the hero standing in the middle of her apartment is Kara falling and falling and falling, the cement crumbling beneath her when she crashes.

And oh, her breath escapes her just as quickly as it did then — a rush of air pushing past her lips, and she thinks that _yes, it is possible to drown_.

Kara’s at her side then, hands fluttering over her as though uncertain, and Lena chokes out a quiet laugh. Shakes herself again.

“So you flew here against Alex’s orders at almost one in the morning?” She cants her head, mouth tilting, and she sees past the clear sapphire of Kara’s irises — sees the shadows that cling to the edges. Really takes in the slump that curves her spine, that weighs her down. 

Kara shrugs once more, and the cape scrunches around her shoulders, red and so, _so_ much like the blood that had coated her skin _then_ , and oh, Lena feels like she’s going to be sick.

(Because she’s back there, James right beside her, holding her back from rushing toward Supergirl — to _Kara_. 

And Alex. Oh, Alex rushing onto the scene, screaming Supergirl’s name. Bodies of black swarming the fallen body of the hero.)

“Lena.” There’s a hand folding over her elbow, fingers dancing over skin. “I’m right here.”

She is, she is, she is. And Lena has to keep chanting that to herself because even with Kara standing with her, her grip sure and _present_ , it still doesn’t feel real. 

“Are you?” she finds herself forcing past the lump in her throat. 

(Days. She waits days, weeks spent glancing at her phone every ten seconds. Waiting and waiting for Alex to message.

For Winn. For James. 

For anyone to tell her that Kara is _okay_ because she needs to know.)

(Because her hands won’t _stop shaking_.)

This isn’t how she imagined her day going. She didn’t anticipate Kara flying to her home, she didn’t anticipate staying up this long to look through reports and checking finance reports because Sam has been noticeably absent from work as of late.

But Kara grounds her. Gently guides her to the couch, and they sit in the darkness, leaning against each other. A silent pillar of support.

“I’m here, Lena,” Kara says softly, breath warm against the crown of her head. “I promise.”

Lena sighs, relaxes against the back of the cushions. “You came here for something.” It’s more of statement than a question, and she sees Kara nod, profile awash in the silver light filtering through the wide windows of her apartment.

“You,” Kara says simply, moves her arm to drape her cape across their shoulders.

“Why?”

“Because no one should be awake and _working_ at one in the morning,” Kara jokes, and Lena rolls her eyes. Swats at her knee. “Hey, it’s true.”

“You’re still awake,” Lena points out, thrums her fingers against her thigh before gesturing to the crest on her chest. “You should be resting. Not—” _Not straining yourself, not putting on the suit so soon after —_

“I rest better with you around,” Kara admits, cutting through Lena’s thoughts, and there’s something different in the way she says it — somber and quiet, and Lena doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t know how to explain how her pulse picks up. Trips over itself at her words.

She reaches for Kara’s hand then, and Kara responds in kind, sliding their palms together and twining their fingers. Squeezes the hand in hers.

“Well, you’re lucky my bed is large enough for two,” Lena quips, hoping to lighten the mood.

(These early hours of the morning leave her more open and vulnerable and _raw_ than she’d prefer — but it’s Kara.

Kara understands. Always does.)

“Lena, your bed could probably fit five people.”

“Is that a complaint?” Lena arches a brow, tilts her chin so that she can look Kara in the eye. 

There are creases around the blue, exhaustion in every line of her face, but Kara’s smiling, mirth glimmering between the weariness. “Nope.”

“It sounded like a complaint.”

“It wasn’t,” Kara protests, a tinge of a whine to her face, and soon Lena’s smiling too, lips parting in a wide grin.

She’s missed this. She’s missed this more than she had any right to, but oh, having Kara beside her is all she wanted, and she’s _here_. Kara chose to be here. With her, and it tugs at Lena’s chest in a way she’s all too familiar to when it comes to Kara.

“Then, the bed awaits,” she goes to stand, but Kara’s hand in hers stills her, prevents her from going too far. “Kara?”

“Can we…” Kara picks at the edge of her cape, gaze flitting away when Lena tries to meet her eyes. “Can we stay here?”

“On the couch?” Kara nods, and Lena sinks back into her previous seat, befuddled, but she doesn’t question further. Doesn’t question the look that passes over Kara’s features.

“The moon is beautiful tonight,” she comments, and there’s something in her voice that has the pieces sliding right into place, and oh, Lena understands. Understands her need to not be confined. Not after having been bedridden for days on end.

She goes to stand, gently extracts her fingers from Kara’s, and before Kara can say anything, she disappears into her room. She snatches the blanket from her bed as well as a few pillows before returning.

At Kara’s confused look, Lena tilts her head toward the balcony. Smiles softly when Kara pops up on her feet, comprehension dawning across her features. 

When they step outside, Lena’s glad it isn’t too cold, and they lay the blanket on the ground. Hold the pillows to their chests, hands finding each other once more in the small space between them.

“My aunt used to tell me all about the stars.” Kara’s eyes are skyward, reflecting the scintillating pinpricks, and Lena nearly loses herself in the worlds she finds there.

“Tell me about them?” she asks softly, their knees brushing, shoulders pressing together.

Kara drops her gaze and smiles at her, a little sad and a little happy, too, and begins recalling the stories she’s kept so close to her heart.


	3. pick a star on the dark horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _(If Kara listens hard enough, casts her eyes beyond the dark horizon, there’s a faint humming sound, and oh, the stars are singing again.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from: the call by regina spektor

“Are you looking for Krypton?”

It’s soft, quiet. Hesitant. And Kara, she doesn’t move from the railing, her eyes fixated on a point between the pinpricks of light spanning across the darkened skyline. Searching. But for what, she’s not entirely certain.

She feels Alex settle in beside her, half-facing her, half-facing away, posture stiff and awkward, but she’s still reaching out for Kara. Like she always has done. Still does. There’s a beat of silence, Alex shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, Kara’s fingers tightening around the balustrade.

“No,” Kara says finally, her voice low, distant to her own ears.

(She doesn’t know what she’s looking for. Just finds herself searching through the infinite cosmos because she feels — _feels_ untethered.

Feels herself drifting aimlessly with no semblance of direction.)

There’s a brush against her elbow. Fingers folding around the crook, and Alex doesn’t ask for anything more — Kara’s pretty sure she doesn’t have more to give. Her touch is grounding, steady in a way she hasn’t felt in some time.

Not since before the Daxamite invasion, before Rhea and Mon-El, before…

(Before she became Supergirl officially, by name, by brand — when she was still trying and trying to be like her cousin, to be deserving of wearing her own family’s crest.

And oh, it _burns_ from its place above her chest.)

She sucks in a breath, her hands falling away from the rail as she leans a little more into Alex, sinks into the sturdiness of her sister’s presence. And Alex winds an arm around her. Tucks Kara close to her side.

“Kara?” It’s gentle prodding, a tiny nudge because Alex doesn’t ever push whenever Kara gets lost like this (lost in the thousands of stars above them, swirling specks of light and lost worlds as well as not so lost worlds).

“I—” She swallows the sudden lump in her throat, her stomach churning. Her hands curl into her cape, the material smooth and untarnished and _Kal-El would know what to do_ , she thinks. He would know. “I don’t know what to do, Alex.”

Alex shifts against her, turns so that she’s leaning forward and around, peering into Kara’s eyes. Squeezes her arm. “About?”

“Reign,” Kara supplies, shoulders sagging, her cape a heavy weight. She twists the fabric between her fingers. “The Worldkillers. I – they – _Reign_ completely destroyed us. And I’m…” The words get caught in her throat.

(Failure, failure, _failure_.

Failure to her people — to _Krypton_. How can she consider herself the last daughter of Krypton, carry that name, when she can’t protect the city she swore to?

How can she be worthy of her culture, of her crest when she can’t, of bearing that name when she can’t protect the people she cares about?)

(How can she look upon the earth and call it home when she can’t even fulfill that much?)

“I’m afraid,” Kara admits, a rush a breath through her lips. Feels herself deflate once it’s out because oh, she _is_. If she and the power of the Legion — powers from the future — can’t defeat one Worldkiller.

How will they manage against more?

“Hey.” Alex grips her arms, turns her slowly to face her fully. Her dark eyes — a steady brown, a stability that never fails to ground Kara — darts between Kara’s. “It’s okay to be afraid.” Alex smiles, a wry thing. “I think we’re all at least a little scared.”

She pulls Kara close then, and Kara lets her. Lets Alex prop her up, tuck her head beneath her chin and rub a hand comfortingly up and down her back.

“We’re going to deal with this, okay?” Alex reassures her. “Together.”

“Together,” Kara echoes, wrapping her arms around her sister more tightly.

Her eyes flit over Alex’s shoulders, fix on the expanse of black above them again. She tries to seek comfort, _guidance_ even, in the scintillating little lights, too. In her ancestors of Krypton that sit among them.

(She doesn’t find it.

The stars stare back coldly. Feel accusatory.)

—

Back on Krypton, Kara always knew what her purpose was.

Her life was plotted and charted from the second she was born, Alura and Zor-El ensuring her future as a way of guidance. To point her onto the correct path for her as well as their people.

Kara never questioned it. Accepted it without any qualms. Because they were her parents, they knew what they were doing. She trusted them.

Besides she loved visiting the guild with her father, watching them work with their tools, absorbing equations and knowledge with a furiously working mind and wide eyes.

Science was intriguing, the things her father did with it. The way he moved around the guild with such ease, his callused hands wrapping around hers, demonstrating how to assemble contraptions, how to calculate formulas quickly and efficiently.

Kara was perfectly fine with this future. Fine with being able to help Krypton through science and technology while her mother kept their planet safe through laws and order and fairness.

And when Kara wasn’t occupied with memorizing everything her father taught her, she was spending time with her Aunt Astra, sitting beside her and staring into the skies above Argo City as her aunt pointed out the stars. The distant planets.

_There are so many worlds out there, Little One,_ Astra told her, hands squeezing her shoulders, chin propped atop Kara’s head. _So many stars of our ancestors. Forever resting in Rao’s light._

And whenever Kara was confused, had far too many questions about something or another, Astra would laugh, point to those twinkling lights. _The stars will always guide you, Kara. Look to them whenever you’re in need._

She’d lean in then, a conspiratorial look in her eyes as she’d bring out her spy beacon. Press it against Kara’s chest, right above the House of El crest emblazoned across her shirt.

_Or you could call upon me. Always._

She wishes she could call Astra now. Ask her so many questions, about her purpose, about her family. About Krypton because she’s starting to forget things ( _Rao,_ she’s starting to _forget_ even with her mother’s hologram, and it _hurts_ ). Tell her how much she misses her.

And she tries, oh Kara tries. She looks at the stars whenever she can’t sleep, strains to hear their whispers, their songs of guidance.

But she never hears anything.

(Not anymore.)

The stars are silent. And Kara hasn’t felt this lost since she first landed on Earth.

—

It’s a late day at CatCo for Kara.

Not that it’s entirely her fault. Aliens were running amok earlier and there was this overbearing sense of tension, of dread hanging in the air as she flew about. Hoping to assuage it as best as she could.

(She doesn’t think she helped much in ways of allaying fear, but Reign hasn’t made an appearance since Kara had flown to Fort Rozz for answers.

So she considers it a mild success.)

So now she’s here, sitting at her desk with only the light of her laptop screen and her nearby lamp keeping her company as she rapidly types away at an article that was due the next morning.

Everyone else has long since gone home, James along with them. He smiled at Kara when he left, patted her on the shoulder sympathetically before disappearing from the building, most likely meeting up with Winn.

But, as Kara types another sentence, the words just starting to blur in her visions, she notices the light in James’ office. Which is odd, because she thought James turned it off before he left.

Kara pushes her chair out, rises to her feet, stretching her arms high above her head. She sighs in satisfaction as her spine pops, and she moves towards James’ office, curious and just a tad bit wary.

(She’s a little surprised that she hadn’t noticed another presence aside from her own until now.)

As she nears, Kara thinks to actually tune into her surroundings, listening for the heartbeat of the other individual, and oh, it’s familiar and steady and how did she miss this?

“Lena?” she calls out, stepping into the office, hand wrapping around the glass separating it from the bullpen.

There’s a shift by the balcony door, and the woman in question steps out of shadow, dark hair sweeping across her shoulders, and Kara’s momentarily dazed by the motion.

“Kara,” Lena greets softly, tilting the glass Kara belatedly notices in her hand in her direction. The ice clinks against the edges, the dark red liquid sloshing dangerously near the rim. “Burning the midnight oil?”

Kara laughs, feels her lips quirk upward in the way they normally do whenever Lena’s near. She ducks her head with a sheepish smile, fiddles with the arm of her glasses. “Yeah. Kinda left a section of the article to the last minute.”

Lena smiles at that, small and creased at the corners before she brings her drink back to her lips, and she seats herself on one of the couches, gesturing for Kara to join her with her other hand.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Kara asks as she settles into the cushions, fingers twisting around each other.

Lena’s mouth twitches, and she runs a finger along the stem of her glass. “No rest for the wicked, I’m afraid.” She looks up at Kara then. Cants her head to the side, expression teasing now. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

“Really focused on that article,” Kara laughs, breathless and just on the side of embarrassed because she’s wondering how she missed Lena, too (how she missed a heartbeat as familiar and comforting to her as Alex’s is).

“I can imagine.”

Kara smiles again, tugs at the edges of her sleeves, but she doesn’t miss the way Lena flicks her gaze away, focuses somewhere beyond them. The way her shoulders are hunched, and it reminds Kara of herself in a way, like Lena’s also carrying the weight of the world.

(Something they both share.

Something that Kara wishes she can bear alone so that Lena doesn’t have to.)

“Are you okay?” She finds herself saying instead, leaning forward, brow furrowing because Lena determinedly doesn’t meet her eyes when she normally does — always finding Kara’s gaze, chasing after it.

Lena huffs out a breath then, a scoff as she swirls the remaining liquid in her glass. She sets it down on the table between them, and for a brief second, Kara catches the way her hands tremble, shake with minute tremors.

And her own itch to take hers. Envelop them in warmth and comfort until the quivers stop.

Lena stands, and Kara watches from her perch on the couch as she moves over to the balcony door again, the dim light of the office catching on the planes of her face, softening the cut of her jaw, the tendons along her neck.

“Lena?”

“The view is different here,” Lena sighs, gestures vaguely through the glass, to the skyline, the tops of buildings and their accompanying lights.

Kara slowly slips off the couch toward her. Wraps her arms around her chest (the crest burns when she skims over it). “Miss Grant loved it out there.” Lena moves to slide the door open, and they both step outside. “I would always find her sitting on one of the chairs, looking out to the city.”

“A queen on her throne,” Lena says quietly, tracing a hand along the rail as she leans against it, folds her arms atop it, mimicking Kara’s pose from nights previous.

“Yeah.” Kara scans Lena’s profile, eyes darting from feature to feature, distracted by the city lights glinting off her earrings, the metal catching silver. She reaches out, runs a hand along Lena’s arm. “You never answered my question.”

Lena tilts her head toward her, and her eyes usually so green, are pale and grey and Kara can’t look away. “I’m fine, Kara.”

Kara presses closer, their shoulders brushing, faces inches apart. Narrows her eyes and grips just a little tighter around Lena’s bicep before trailing down, circling her wrist.

“You don’t have to be.”

A breath passes in the air between them, and Kara’s not sure if it was her sigh or Lena’s, but Lena looks — she looks tired, maybe even a little lost as she searches Kara’s gaze. And Kara lets her, lets her find whatever she’s looking for.

And she thinks maybe she does because Lena’s lifting a hand, tracing the furrow of Kara’s brow, thumb swiping the crinkle between them.

“You don’t have to be either,” she whispers, like a secret for the two of them, the outside world not privy to the space that’s _theirs_ , the stars being their only witness.

(It’s not like they’ll say anything.

Their silence suffocating and clawing at her lungs, the songs lost in the trails of dust and cosmos that Kara has to pretend she doesn’t hear.

But with Lena looking at her with such tenderness and wonder, Kara forgets about the silence.

Just for a moment.)

—

The more Kara thinks about Krypton, the more she wonders if her beliefs still hold up, if Krypton was even as grand and beautiful as she remembers.

Ever since she realized how her mother left her on a planet alone, left their planet to _die_ without lifting a single finger, the rose-tinted lenses have faded, leaving Kara with her gut clenching and roiling with an incensed anger she doesn’t have an outlet for.

(Because how can she hold on to a fury toward her mother when she isn’t here anymore?)

And the Medusa virus her father created only helped tear down the walls of Kara’s childhood memories — the comfort she felt and the nostalgia she held close to her heart alighting in flames because now it’s both her mother _and_ her father that have done terrible, terrible things.

She’s the last daughter of Krypton. And yet, it doesn’t feel like the honor is used to be.

(It feels like guilt and fear and pain, and she thinks that not only does she not deserve it, but what’s the point of having it?

What’s the point in pride when they’ve done _horrible_ things?)

It’s only J’onn’s words that snap her out of that mindset, that set her straight again. With a pride for a family long gone, for an emblem she’s not even sure Kal-El knows the true depth of meaning behind.

But now. Now with the Worldkillers, born from Krypton’s science and technology, Kara’s starting to question her planet’s grandeur. Its _righteousness_.

(Mon-El had called Kryptonians arrogant.

She begins to wonder if he was right about that.)

And if Alex notices how the landscapes she paints of her home world are few and far between — the ones she manages to paint marred with angry streaks of burning red and blackened earth and skies — she doesn’t say anything.

Only holds Kara closer as they watch the movies and TV shows they’ve been too busy to watch. Makes her laugh when Alex chucks popcorn at her face for interrupting a good scene with an ill-timed joke.

And when she finally shares her doubts, Alex looks at her with such concern and sympathy that Kara buries herself in her sister’s embrace, never wanting to let go. Because of _course_ , Alex wouldn’t try to say anything otherwise.

Would always nod and listen to what Kara has to say, throw in a few of her own thoughts if asked.

“You don’t have to be what they were, Kara _,”_ Alex tells her, tapping the crest underneath her shirt. “You’re their legacy. Krypton is whatever you want it to be.”

(Kara thinks of her legacy, thinks of how Lena’s fighting to make her own, stepping out from beneath the Luthor shadow, and _yes_ , Krypton can be anything she wants it to be.)

—

Lena’s at L-Corp. Lena’s at L-Corp when just the day before she was poisoned and knocking on death’s door, and Kara pauses mid-flight to watch her, her cape snapping at her heels, wind rustling through her hair.

Lena stands straight-backed, shoulders stiff, her posture a clear attempt at keeping her composure as steady as she was taught ( _forced_ , Kara thinks with a frown). There isn’t a drink accompanying her this time around — just an air fraught with something Kara can’t name.

Kara drifts closer. Close enough that she doesn’t even notice until the tips of her boots skid against stone, and oh, Lena’s looking right at her, expression inscrutable, head tilted curiously.

“Supergirl.”

“Miss Luthor.” Kara fumbles to place her fists on her hips. Tries to muster her superhero bravado, but even if she didn’t see the slight pinch between Lena’s brows, she can tell it isn’t working. Her energy flagging. “You should be resting,” she chides lightly, touching down on the balcony beside her.

Lena shrugs a shoulder, pins Kara with a look she still can’t read — like Lena’s staring straight through the suit to the girl underneath — before glancing skyward.

“You know,” she says quietly, “I was afraid to look at them for a time.”

Kara blinks, moves a little closer when a gust of wind blows by. “Them?”

Lena points up. “The stars.” Her posture sags, her spine seemingly unable to buoy whatever thoughts are rushing through her mind. “After the invasion last year I—” She closes her eyes, and Kara’s heart tugs, a familiar ache. “I was afraid that I’d see a light streak across the sky. Of…” She lets out a shuddering breath. Doesn’t finish.

And Kara doesn’t need her to. “Lena…”

“Edge was right,” Lena laughs, bitter and twisted. “Guilt was a powerful motivator for a time.”

Kara steps into her space, presses their shoulders together again. A familiar position, one that she falls into so easily. “I never blamed you for that.”

“I know.” It’s shaky at best, and when Kara chances a glance, Lena doesn’t look quite as put together as she originally assumed.

She adjusts herself against the rail, angling so that she’s facing Lena, but she follows her eyes, traces familiar patterns through the stars until she settles in the emptiness that she knows Krypton used to be.

“I was afraid of them, too,” Kara admits slowly, smiles a little when Lena turns to her at last. She gestures up to them. “My aunt told me they’d always be here to guide me, but lately they’ve…” She licks her lips, swallows back a lump in her throat. Lena reaches for her hand, squeezes it once she grabs it. “They’ve been so quiet.”

There’s a beat of silence. Kara soaks in the warmth from Lena’s hand in hers, a quiet companion. A show of support once more.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Kara,” Lena sighs, sliding her palm along Kara’s, fingers folding gently around hers.

And Kara doesn’t react to her name spilling from those lips when she’s wearing her suit. Silently relishes the way it sounds, wrapped in Lena’s velvety cadence. She grips Lena’s hand more firmly, extends the other to slide along her cheek, tangle in the black tresses against her temple.

She leans into the touch, smiles at Kara before she continues, “When I bought CatCo it was an investment.” Her eyes skitter across Kara’s face again, her mouth twisting into something more sardonic, self-deprecating. Kara hates it immediately. “A selfish investment.

“CatCo was new. A breath of fresh air. Something untarnished by Lex and my mother, and I let myself be swept up by the novelty of it all.”

“You’re doing a great job there, Lena,” Kara murmurs, hoping to convey her faith in her. Tugs a bit on the strands between her digits until Lena looks over at her with a puff of laughter. And oh, as weak and wobbly as it may be, it’s _there_.

“Thank you,” she whispers softly, her breath warm against the underside of Kara’s wrist. But as quickly as the tenderness appears, it dissipates, her expression hardening. “My mother—”

“—Your mother is a terrible person,” Kara interjects gently, her cape starting to feel heavy around her shoulders again. “You don’t have to listen to what she says.”

“I know, but she has a point.” Kara opens her mouth, wants to tell Lena that points made by her mother are still _terrible_ , but Lena presses a finger to her lips, shakes her head. “She asked me why I want to be the next Cat Grant when I can be me.”

“You,” Kara grins. “Lena Luthor, my genius best friend, who is so generous, and smart, and kind. And so _good._ ”

“ _Kara_.”

“It’s true!”

Lena rolls her eyes, and Kara knows it’s merely for show because the corner of her lips quirks upward, and there’s that same fond glow in her eyes as she takes Kara in.

“It’s okay to feel lost, Lena,” Kara tells her, strokes the skin of her cheek beneath her fingers as she does so. “Rao knows I do.”

(She still does. And even with Alex’s words echoing in her mind, a reminder of what Kara _can_ be, she still does.

She thinks of her mother, what she wanted Kara to be. Her father and his expectations with the science guild. Astra, and the stars, and the spy beacon that she still keeps inside the top drawer of her bedside dresser.

And she understands.)

“That’s why you have friends here to help you,” Kara stares high above them. Wonders if her ancestors can see her now, wonders if her parents are proud of her.

She catches Lena nod at her words, a quiet exhalation of agreement. And there’s a pressure against her wrist, a warmth, and when Kara glances down, she sees Lena pressing her lips there, a small smile curving them when blue meets green.

(If Kara listens hard enough, casts her eyes beyond the dark horizon, there’s a faint humming sound, and oh, the stars are singing again.)


	4. when we see it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modern/college AU. 
> 
> _Kara lifts the camera into her hands, rises to her feet. She swivels on her heels, pivoting to and fro with a laugh. “I dunno.” She grins down at her, offers a hand. “I think, like in all moments of life, it depends on how we frame it, you know?_
> 
> _Lena doesn’t hesitate to grasp it. Smiles at the significance of 'we'._

She’s not typically drawn to these sorts of events.

No, Lena is much more likely to attend science conventions, technology symposiums, quiet study sessions, anything but activities that involve large, _boisterous_ crowds of people. And loud, pounding music in addition to the throngs of people? Definitely not her kind of scene.

She doesn’t know why she let Sam talk her into this.

( _Lena you have to go_ , Sam insists, rapidly sifting through her notes strewn across the table, Ruby quietly playing in the seat beside her.

Lena frowns, leans back in her chair. _Sam, you know that’s not the type of crowd I like being around._

Sam looks up, arching a brow, hand snapping out to snatch a toy before Ruby can stuff it in her mouth like it’s second nature — it probably is, Lena thinks as she watches the motion, smile soft across her lips.

_They might play music you like._

Lena huffs, rolls her eyes to the ceiling. _Like they booked indie groups to play._

_Lena,_ she slants her eyes to Sam, taking note of her beseeching tone, her wide brown eyes, _please, go_. _You don’t have a life outside school, work, and us._ She waves between herself, Lena, and Ruby.)

And here Lena is now, pushing her way through gyrating bodies and men who are clearly unaware that they should keep their hands to _themselves_. She bats off flailing limbs, the sounds of bending plastic reaching her ears.

She looks down, sees her cup of cheap beer contorting beneath her grip, and relaxes her fingers. Draws a steadying breath as she continues to elbow a path through far too much body heat.

The music is loud and far from the type she appreciates. Lights dance across the stage, strobes are various colors, and honestly, Lena’s surprised that people haven’t gone blind from how erratic and bright they are.

She manages to break through the crowds, standing somewhere along the edge, grass crumpled underfoot. With a sigh of relief, Lena chucks her still completely full cup into the nearest trash can and wonders if Sam would judge her if she left now.

As she contemplates whether the mingled expression of exasperation and resignation of Sam’s face would be worth escaping this particular atmosphere, her eyes drift from the parting crowds and she catches sight of a lone figure standing a little off from the center stage, camera held aloft.

It’s apparent that the individual is capturing images of the event — most likely for the school paper or something adjacent, but Lena’s interest is piqued.

Under normal circumstances, she’s rather camera shy (she thinks it has to do with being a Luthor and being thrusted into the limelight at an early age), but it seems quiet in that shadowed corner, and she’s in desperate need of quiet.

Besides, this entire circumstance is far from her _normal_.

Lena steps a little closer, keeps her distance, but is near enough to pick out that the individual appears female. Her blonde tresses tied into a ponytail, highlighted by the current greens the band has decided upon for their next song.

She lowers her camera, seems to examine the crowds with a careful eye before bringing the camera back up, snapping a few pictures.

Lena isn’t sure how long she stands there, idly observing this woman taking images of an event she didn’t want to attend in the first place, but she’s curious. Curious to know what this person sees when she looks out to these people: silhouettes dancing, bodies aglow with seemingly every color in the spectrum.

Because when Lena turns to gaze upon them once more, she isn’t certain as to what she should _see_. What is there that deserves to be captured in ink.

(She remembers her brother being taken away in chains, the picture of his manic eyes and snarling lips forever burned into the back of her eyelids.

The very same visage pasted on every newspaper for weeks and months until she stopped looking altogether.)

Maybe that’s why she speaks up.

“Have you gotten anything good?”

She almost regrets it when she watches the woman start, fumble with the camera in her hands and would have most likely dropped it had it not been for the strap around her neck.

She turns to her, blonde hair whipping in her face, and Lena’s momentarily distracted by how pretty this girl is, a flush prominent across her cheeks even with the cool lighting of the stage, glasses askew atop her nose.

“I – no, not yet.” The blonde glances down to her hands, then back up again, suspicion creeping into her features. “Have you been watching me?”

Lena jerks, feels heat rush up the back of her neck as she laughs, nervous and shaky, and oh, she wishes she didn’t listen to Sam.

“Just the last few minutes,” Lena says, jaw tipped, defiant, _defensive_ , before she lowers her hackles. Curiosity bubbling up again. “You’ve been at that,” she gestures toward the camera, “for at least twenty minutes now, and I was wondering if you captured anything you liked.”

It feels awkward, the way her voice is stilted, unsure. It’s a new feeling, uncertainty. Whenever she spoke with her colleagues down in the LuthorCorp labs, or even her mother (not that she speaks to Lillian much after Lex’s trial), her words were always confident, measured.

But this — striking up conversation with someone she’s never before seen in her life? Lena isn’t accustomed to this at all.

The blonde tilts her head, something like a smile on her face as she fiddles with the nobs on her camera, restless little movements. She shrugs. “Nothing yet.”

Lena nods, the uncertainty still there, tinging this encounter, and she thinks, unbidden of the words Lex told her once. His advice still as prominent in her mind as it has always been — his voice pervasive in a way she’s sure it will be for a long time.

“My brother told me once,” she starts slowly, briefly notes the blonde staring at her, regarding her as Lena chews on the words, “that the best way to capture a moment is to be where the people are.”

( _That’s where the real secret is_ , Lex murmurs, words slurring together as he leans against the banister, looking down at the guests, swirling a glass of champagne in one hand. He drapes his other arm over her shoulders, whispers in her ear. _Go get ‘em, Ace._ )

The blonde dips her head, bobs it up and down thoughtfully, and leaps off the step and onto the ground, agile and cat-like, and Lena can’t help but stare.

“I’ll keep your advice in mind…” She trails off, cants her head, her ponytail slipping over her shoulder.

“Lena,” Lena offers, extending a hand, feels the beat of the music reverberating behind her sternum, a pulse keeping rhythm with her rapidly thrumming heart.

The blonde grasps it in her own, and Lena barely has time to relish in its surprising warmth before she draws away. Smiles. “Kara. It’s nice to meet you, Lena.”

_Kara_. The name echoes, spirals deep into the recesses of her mind. Lena clings to it with the same amount of desperation she does the way her name sounds coming from Kara’s mouth: wrapped in a blanket of warmth (a far cry from the way people normally spit the syllables).

Kara considers her for a moment, and Lena can’t say she won’t be sorry if Kara leaves. Because — well, because it _is_ quiet with Kara in this corner, the lights not quite touching them, the voices of the crowds strangely distant, the music a mere backdrop.

She doesn’t want to leave it so soon, not when her mind hasn’t been this silent in ages.

“Did you want to grab a bite to eat?” Kara blurts, and with her no longer standing above her, Lena can just make out the flush of pink splashing across her cheeks.

She laughs, not unkindly, and hurries to remedy the look on Kara’s face as it falls. She holds her hands out, waves them. “No, no. I didn’t,” Lena brushes hair from her eyes, smiles softly. “I would love to.”

—

“So,” Lena prompts as they’re weaving through throngs of people to the food trucks in the back. It’s surprisingly not as tedious with Kara at her side, stepping around groups with a sort of practiced ease. “Photography major?”

Kara laughs, shakes her head, fingers stroking the camera cradled in her palms. “No, journalism, actually.” She holds up her camera just as the stage lights transition to cool blues and purples. “It’s just a hobby. I’m no Jimmy Olsen.”

Lena purses her lips. “Can I see them?” Kara tilts her head, a furrow between her brows. “Your pictures.”

“Oh,” Kara plucks at the strap around her neck, hesitant, and Lena backpedals immediately.

“You don’t have to, of course,” she hastens to say, bites back a sigh. Sam would laugh if she saw her now. Lena looks away, her eyes skittering across the sea of people.

Kara nudges her elbow, and Lena turns back to see her offering her camera. “I trust you.”

“You just met me,” Lena reminds her as she reaches to accept the proffered item, carefully begins to scroll through the images.

Kara shrugs. “You seem trustworthy.”

Lena doesn’t say anything. What’s she supposed to even say to something like that? When all she’s known the past year is dark, wary looks from everyone other than Sam and Ruby, and Jack for that matter.

(No one thinks to offer her that kind of trust, not when her brother’s crimes hang over her.

A noose around her neck at times, tightening and tightening until she can’t breathe without it feeling like she’s swallowing nails and shards of glass.)

She peruses the images instead, impressed by the ambience Kara manages to capture in a single snapshot. “These are really good. I don’t know what else you’re looking for.” She hands the camera back.

Kara lowers her head, shy almost in the way she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. Lena finds her oddly endearing.

“Thank you,” Kara murmurs, barely able to be heard above the din, but she’s smiling again. Eyes twinkling. “I don’t know what’s missing, either. I just know something _is_ ,” she shrugs a shoulder, draws a circle in the air with a finger, “missing.”

She knocks their shoulders together. “What about you, Lena?”

“What about me?”

“What major are you?” Kara hops up on the tips of her feet, peers above the heads in front of them and at the food trucks. “Also, what do you want to eat?”

Lena blinks, stares at the side of Kara’s face before turning to the many vendors that fan out before them. “Electrical engineering and business.”

Kara drops back onto feet, eyes wide, and she blows out a low whistle. Shakes her head again. “Double major? That’s, wow. That’s impressive.”

It’s Lena’s turn to shrug, look away again because she doesn’t know what to do with the expression on Kara’s face — admiration, unadulterated awe. The last person who looked at her like that is Ruby, and that was because Lena fixed her a toy robot for her last birthday.

Lena coughs, rubs a hand against her sternum, a strained smile pulling the corner of her lips. “I can never decide between the tacos or pizza.”

Kara laughs, head thrown back. “Oh that’s _easy_.” She smiles, slanted and mischievous, but oh, it’s such a pretty smile. “Pizza is obviously the way to go. I mean,” she gestures emphatically with her hands, “it has _way_ more toppings, and the crust is to die for.”

Lena can’t help returning her enthusiasm, her mouth stretching in its own smile. She pats Kara on the arm. “Well, I guess you can get the pizza then.”

“Fine,” Kara huffs, but she’s still grinning, eyes shining and blue, blue, blue behind the lenses of her glasses.

(Lena briefly wonders what shade they are without the stage lights reflecting from them, if they’re really this blue beneath the natural light of the sun.

Wonders if she could possibly see Kara again after this.)

—

“Was the pizza as good as you claimed it to be?”

They’re sitting towards the far back of the audience, a good distance away from the general crowds still partying to the live concert music. She tilts her head toward Kara, a knowing, triumphant smile curving her lips.

The plates sit empty between them, and Kara rubs absently at her stomach, rests her weight on her elbows as she leans back.

“ _Yes_ ,” Kara asserts, a pout on her lips as she begrudgingly adds, “but the tacos were good, too.”

“I’m glad you could see it my way.”

Kara rolls her eyes, grins up at her. She knocks their shoulders together again, and this camaraderie feels strange to Lena, too easy, too light.

She’s out of her depth, floundering through the entirety of this encounter. All she knows is that she owes Sam a thank you when she gets back and that she doesn’t want this to end.

“So, electrical engineering and business?”

Lena sighs, draws her knees up to her chest. “My mother wants me to take over the family business.”

“Business?”

Lena jerks, eyes Kara incredulously. “Do you not know who I am?”

Kara blinks owlishly at her, pushes herself back into a sitting position. “Should I?”

“ _Le-na_ ,” Lena stretches the syllables of her name. “Lena Luthor?”

She watches the realization dawn across Kara’s face, thinks _and there it is_ , before she turns away, eyes catching on the soft indigo lights filtering off the stage, bathing the crowds in hues of purple and blue.

She doesn’t want to see the disappointment, the disgust, undoubtedly being directed toward her. Not from Kara.

Gentle fingers fold around her wrist then, and: “You don’t want to take over the business, do you?”

Lena feels her shoulders deflate, relaxes under the thumb swiping across the underside of her wrist. “No. I just want to work down in the labs. R&D is kind of _my_ thing. Lex always—” She stops, swallows thickly.

Doesn’t continue because she’s certain Kara doesn’t particularly care for anything even remotely related to her brother.

“So was the pizza doing what your mom wants, or was that the tacos?”

Lena twists her neck to look at Kara, brows pinched. “What?”

Kara doesn’t let go of her wrist. Shrugs, sheepish but attentive, not a trace of hate or judgment in her features. “Bad analogy.” She leans closer. “It’s just, you seem so torn between this, and it’s hard. I get that.”

“Comes with the name.”

Kara looks at her strangely then, chidingly if Lena had to put a label to it. “ _Lena_. I just met you, and I already know you’re so much more than your name.” Lena scoffs. “I mean it.”

“Okay,” Kara shuffles on the ground, pulls out her camera again. “Who looks like they have their lives put together. Point to ‘em.”

Baffled, Lena does what Kara asks anyway. Points to a couple sitting several feet away, a lone figure by the trash can with a phone to their ear, an older woman picking at a salad at a table nearby.

Kara snaps pictures of all of them before tilting the camera to Lena. Goes through each image. “So these two have been together for a few years. Plan to move in together. But, he,” she points to one of the men, “hasn’t told his boyfriend about his promotion that will take him out of state.”

She scrolls to the next picture. “He doesn’t like his job. Wants to quit as soon as possible, but he needs the money to help pay for his mother’s medical bills.” Kara goes to the last one, regards the woman in the image for a moment. “She’s just gone through a divorce. She doesn’t know how deal with losing someone she’s been with for over twenty years.”

Her voice is soft, lilting as she spins tales about these people, and Lena doesn’t look away. Not even when Kara’s eyes lift and blue meets green.

“You don’t know any of these people, do you?” Lena whispers, breathless with disbelief.

“No,” Kara shakes her head, stares down at the camera between them, Lena’s wrist she still has in her grasp. “But, everyone here is at a different place in their lives.”

“And where are you?”

Kara considers her, eyes flicking between Lena’s, and then she’s looking out over the people again. “Getting there.” Her smile reappears, slipping back into place with an ease Lena’s envious of. “But I like it here, where I am. I like the people.”

She holds up here camera. “Even if that means shooting for events in the place of James because he’s busy working on a different part of the school paper.”

Lena laughs, soft to her own ears. Feels something warm bloom between her ribs as she takes in Kara’s profile now, suffused in shades of cobalt and violet. Can’t tear her eyes away even if she tried.

“You are…” She mulls over her words as Kara turns to her, listening and attentive once more. “A protector,” Lena settles with. “You like to guard the little moments. The moments where… where people come to take their minds off of things.”

Kara’s smile widens, her fingers shifting down to squeeze Lena’s before she lets go. “I like it.”

Lena looks down at the camera again, watches Kara fiddle absently with the lens cap. “Did you ever get the shot you wanted?”

Kara lifts the camera into her hands, rises to her feet. She swivels on her heels, pivoting to and fro with a laugh. “I dunno.” She grins down at her, offers a hand. “I think, like in all moments of life, it depends on how we frame it, you know?”

Lena doesn’t hesitate to grasp it. Smiles at the significance of _we_.

(Thinks of Sam, Ruby, and Jack. Of Kara. Of how it’s been so long since she’s felt like she’s been any part of a _we_.

It sits right. In this small moment. Framed in a way that Lena can’t help but think it might just work.)

“And how do you figure we’re going to frame this one?”

There isn’t a response. Just the familiar sound of a shutter click and Kara peering at her from behind her camera.

“I think we’ll know when we see it.”


	5. understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt: writer's choice
> 
> _And maybe Alex understands that because she leans forward, looks about to reach for Lena’s hand, but retracts it before their fingers brush. But there’s something in her face — a flicker of emotion — a tick to her jaw._
> 
> __Defensive, almost, on Lena’s behalf.__

“Are you ever going to tell her?”

Alex passes her the wine bottle, and Lena pours a liberal amount into her decanter before handing it back. She takes a sip, and Alex does the same, watching her from over the rim of her glass.

“Are you ever going to tell Sam?” Lena shoots right back, and Alex jolts, chokes on her drink, and splutters incoherently as Lena offers her a napkin.

She daps at her mouth, scowling. “Not cool, Luthor.”

Lena shrugs, settles more comfortably into her seat. The bustle of the restaurant a pleasant white noise as Alex turns a wonderful shade of pink across from her.

“Sam’s still settling in to her life here,” Alex mutters, glares balefully at Lena before resuming her meal. “What’s your excuse?”

“Her cape,” Lena states, matter-of-factly, and it’s worth it, seeing Alex choke for a second time.

“You know?” Alex says between coughs. “How?”

“I’m smarter than my brother,” Lena offers as an explanation, lifting her chin, a smirk curving the corner of her lips.

But oh, the implications of her statement are far from lost between the two of them. One of the main reasons Lena opts to keep Kara at arm’s length, tries to keep her away from the taint of her name, the pain that accompanies Luthors that Kara has already suffered from.

“Okay, so you know,” Alex says, more to herself than to Lena, “what’s stopping you then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it the secrecy? The fact that Kara hasn’t told you?” Alex continues. “I can’t make her tell you since it’s her secret to tell, but I could convince her to at least consider it.”

“Alex,” Lena leans forward, thoughts whirling at the information Alex is handing to her without any semblance of mistrust, “it’s not because she kept it from me.” Alex quiets then. “It’s because of _who_ she is behind that secret.”

Alex blinks, and Lena watches the pieces click together in Alex’s eyes, the way her face twists from surprise to anger and then to understanding.

“It could put you in danger,” Alex reasons.

“That’s not what I—” Lena starts to interject.

“—And I think that might be why she hasn’t told you.”

“—Alex—”

“—We can add more precautions. Well, more than we already have—”

“It’s because of who _I_ am,” Lena rushes out, and Alex stops ticking her points off on her fingers, looks at her with her mouth parted in surprise. “I’m a Luthor.”

“I know,” Alex agrees slowly. “What about it?”

 _What about it?_ Lena blinks, incredulous. “The danger my family poses, especially to… someone like her?” She keeps her voice low, remembering they aren’t in private. “The second my brother, or even my mother, puts together who Kara is, your sister is—”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Alex interrupts, faint amusement in her features. She crosses her arms over her chest.

“I – beg your pardon?” Lena laughs, scrunching her nose. “I think I am fully aware of how dangerous my family is.”

“Not that,” Alex shakes her head. “Family.”

“Family,” Lena echoes, bemused. “Well, given my previous experience, you’ll forgive me if I don’t quite understand where you’re going with this.”

Alex thrums her fingers against the table, considers Lena for a moment. “You’re afraid that Kara will leave if you tell her you’re in love with her,” she holds up a hand when Lena goes to interrupt, “because of your family.”

“That’s part of the reason, yes.”

And she doesn’t really know how to say the rest. How to say that Kara doesn’t need another dark presence in her life — the constant threat of a Luthor and the ties that come with such a name dogging her footsteps.

Her cousin has already had to deal with that. With Lex. And Kara, well. Kara has already met her mother. She shouldn’t have to have that looming over her, as well.

And maybe Alex understands that because she leans forward, looks about to reach for Lena’s hand, but retracts it before their fingers brush. But there’s something in her face — a flicker of emotion — a tick to her jaw.

Defensive, almost, on Lena’s behalf.

“I thought by now we’ve shown you what family really is like,” she says.

Lena’s brow furrows, her lips parting slightly. Oh.

(She thinks of game nights and girls nights, Kara showing up to her office late at night to drag her home. Of Alex’s nod in her direction, always keeping Lena’s glass full along with her own.

Thinks maybe that’s what family should be.)


	6. noticing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: _"I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”_

It takes a second for Kara to realize she’s doing it. 

(Takes her several months and several nudges from Alex and a very loudly hissed _stop staring, Kara, that’s rude_ for Kara to realize, actually.)

She stares at Lena. 

Often. Several times a day. It’s astounding, really, that Lena doesn’t seem to notice her doing it. Because once Kara does, she — well, she is fully aware for what seems like the first time just how often she does it.

And it’s baffling and embarrassing and Kara shouldn’t be held accountable because Lena Luthor is _distracting_.

She’s kind and intelligent and so understanding, so accommodating. 

Lena is so many things and so much more. And Kara, even after what happened with the kryptonite, even after telling Lena who she is, even after the icy silence and the tension that lasted for months afterward, is still astounded by how understanding she is.

Pushing aside hurt and pain and distrust, working to where they finally are now, tentative friendship and all. Kara loves Lena — because she’ll always love Lena, as a friend, as family, as someone she just loves — and she won’t push too hard when Lena’s still… coming to terms with things.

That’s why she’s here now, standing in the labs of L-Corp with Lena, looking over reports because even though the kryptonite is still a smarting injury between them, they can at least work together to help Sam.

(Even if Kara keeps shooting glances at her, a sort of desperation for Lena to talk to her, say _anything_.)

“I’ve noticed something,” Lena starts, looking up from the screens in front of her.

“Noticed something?” Kara repeats, sifting through pages, listening intently on the noises beyond the walls, hoping that Supergirl isn’t needed in that moment.

“The way you look at me,” Lena clarifies, and oh, she’s looking at her now, eyebrows pinched, eyes blue in reflection of her tablet, “when you think I don’t notice.”

Kara stills, hands gripping the page between her fingers, feels the edges threaten to tear under the stress. She meets Lena’s gaze, wordless and searching, searching, searching.

“And,” her voice stutters, and she sucks in a breath. Shakes her head and starts again. “And how do I look at you?”

There’s a curl to Lena’s lips then, something sad and wretched, the downward tilt tugging at Kara’s chest.

(She wants her friend back.

More fully. Back to when they were comfortable and laughing, warm and breathless in each other’s space. Because oh, this hesitation between them, careful circulating, hurts and hurts.)

“Sadly,” Lena whispers. And Kara watches her fingers clench around the corner of her tablet, watches the way the muscles in her arm grow taut. 

The crest of her family house burns from beneath her sweater. A reminder.

(Kara still looks and Lena, and Lena still smiles, her pain echoing Kara’s own.)


	7. realizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: _"I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified."_

It’s a slow process. Falling in love.

It creeps up on her, slips between the cracks of walls she’s built up for years ever since Jack — ever since she left Metropolis behind to hopefully find new footing in National City.

A city of bright twinkling stars at night and grey waters hitting the distant shoreline of beaches.

Lena doesn’t expect to find love here. In this city of all places, where she stands straight-backed, shoulders even, head held high the ghost of her father and brother’s transgressions following her even here (her mother in the shadows).

She’s more than just her name, she’s more than her brother’s crimes.

(She’s more than a Luthor.

And in this city, she hopes she’ll be able to believe that for herself.)

But oh, Lena does. Finds love in the unexpected places. In a brilliant ray of sunlight, blue eyes so bright, so warm, a smile that mends the cracks left in the wake of Lex and Jack (and Sam and Ruby). In someone who sees past the Luthor name, believes in _Lena._

It feels different, the emotions that churn in her mind, that sew themselves into her bones and sinew, so warm, like she’s holding a piece of the sun behind her ribs.

(She wonders if this is how Kara feels when she flies, soaring through the soft blues of the sky, the wisps of clouds the occupy the spaces between.)

There is a fondness there, to how Lena feels about Kara. How her smile curls at her lips, unbidden, the moment Kara steps into her office with Jess sending her knowing looks on her way out. How her heart flutters whenever Kara so much as looks her way, thinks to send her small little texts throughout the day.

Reminders to eat, to _rest_ , and _Lena look at this puppy!!! isn’t she cute?_

Lena is endeared to Kara Danvers, and that is dangerous territory. Dangerous and a terrible, terrible idea. The prickling in the back of her mind, a voice that sounds too much like Lex’s whispered hisses of _gods_ and _Supers_ who lord themselves above them.

The crest, the S, causes her to hesitate. To not pursue her feelings — feelings that curdle and roil in her stomach, that cinch her throat when Kara looks at her, eyes wide and concerned, so blue.

And oh, Lena doesn’t know how to say it. How to tell Kara that these burgeoning emotions in her throat, in her chest, threaten to suffocate her. That she’s never felt this warm since she’s left Metropolis, since she left Jack and Sam and Ruby behind.

It seems slow in hindsight, the process of falling in love.

But the more time she spends with Kara, the more time she spends bathing in the glow of someone so kind, so lovely, so gentle and soft with those she loves, Lena wonders if this was inevitable.

That someone like her — someone with darkness miring her thoughts, cloying her past, her family — would fall in love with someone as bright as her.

(Until Lena comes to realize that Kara carries her own darkness.

When Kara tells her about red kryptonite — something Lena only heard news about while in Metropolis — and her aunt, and how maybe the House of El wasn’t as righteous and _good_ as she thought.)

And Lena, well, she falls headfirst into love with Kara. With her laugh, with the way she fumbles with the arm of her glasses, the way she throws herself into every hug — full-frontal contact, arms wrapped tightly, but not too tight, around her.

Yet it terrifies her. The amount of emotion she feels when she puts it together, thoughts whirling in her head at night. Terrifies her how much she can feel for one person, the brightest beacon in National City.

So when Kara comes to her office late at night, expression worried, a chide on her lips, Lena’s mouth runs dry.

_I think I’m in love with you_ , she wants to say, wants to shout, because the admission sits so heavy against her ribs, pressing and pressing and pressing, and Lena doesn’t think she can handle holding it in any longer. _And I’m terrified._

And maybe Kara senses something off, because she’s across the room in seconds, hands hovering, concern crinkling her brow before she’s hugging Lena, holding her close. For a second Lena thinks Kara needed it too, Her grip tight, her breath stuttering against Lena’s temple.

A sigh of content.

Lena knows the feeling, sags into the strength of Kara’s arms and the comfort they bring.

(Later, she promises herself when they’re standing on Lena’s balcony, staring up at the scintillating stars above.

She’ll tell Kara later.)


	8. hurting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: _“You lied to me.”_

Kryptonians thrive under the yellow rays of the sun. Receive their powers from the solar radiation.

And Lena… Lena has come to realize the same about herself.

After she pushes Supergirl away — pushes _Kara_ away — hurting, her breath stuttering in her chest, cinching her throat, she’s left standing. A shadow, a sliver of black in a cold room. And oh, it’s cold. Stifling, an emptiness so heavy.

(It reminds her of the Luthor Mansion.

Reminds her of when she was four years old, wandering halls too big, too wide, too _quiet._ )

Like Kryptonians, Lena needs the sun. But with Kara gone, the warmth left with her.

She didn’t think that it would hurt more to see Kara leave, blue eyes overly bright, glowing with tears, shoulders slumped, cape seemingly an unbearable burden. Sadness. Sadness like her own echoed back at her.

But she can’t — Lena can’t look at Kara. Can’t be near her without wanting to scream, to cry, to ask _why didn’t you tell me before?_ Before Sam, before the Worldkillers, before Kara-Supergirl-whichever persona she is went behind her back.

(Later, Lena understands. Accepts Kara’s fear.

She’s an alien. Lena didn’t show favor initially, created a device deliberately made to out aliens like her. Understands the distrust there.)

But right now, knuckles white against the edge of her counter, computer monitor flickering in her peripheral, compiling data upon data, Lena can’t forgive.

Forgiveness takes up residence in such a small part of her brain, a voice that rings of sympathy and a desire for the sun to come back, to rise above the horizon. To bask in the golden rays once more.

But, she’s a glutton for punishment.

Lena knows she is, takes the guilt and fault and swallows it whole, lets it steep itself into her marrow and settle there. Festering like an old wound along with Lex’s madness and her mother’s ambition.

She stands behind her own beliefs, that she’s trying to do good. She’s trying to be the opposite of her brother, trying to change what the Luthor name is supposed to mean. Supposed to represent.

Staring in the reflection of the computer screen, Lena thinks she’s failing.

That she’s nothing like who she wanted to be.

With the sun shining directly on her, Kara’s staunch support of her, she thought maybe she was. Turning around and _succeeding_ — two years of hard work, and something finally, _finally_ , was working out.

People saw her as someone good. L-Corp as something good.

But without Kara, without Supergirl, Lena looks at herself and sees what she saw in Lex. Grey streaking across a visage she built for herself — a name. Tainted once more.

Good deeds, not so good when put in perspective.

_You lied to me_ , Lena told Kara when she put on her glasses while in the suit, pain etched across her face, a mask so similar to her own. Her lips trembled then, the tautness of her jaw an angry line.

Kara nodded, resigned, _tired._ So tired that Lena for once saw the real weight that Kara carried on her own. A legacy to uphold.

(They’re a funny thing, legacies.

They hold so much power. So much weight. So much sway.

Dictate how to live out a life, and they’re both beholden to those whims.)

Lena _gets that_ yet still pushed Kara away. A request for time to process.

And that time ticks by, every second another drop of misery in the cesspool of lies that sits before her. Filled with stubbornness and pride. Because they’re both right. And they’re both wrong.

And Lena sees that. Sees that once she’s had enough time, standing there, hunched over, the sounds of Supergirl’s footfalls still ringing in her ears, days passing with Reign an ever imminent threat.

She wants the sun back. Wants its warmth shooting through her veins again because it feels too cold without it. Too vacant and empty and quiet. Too reminiscent of the days after Lex’s trial, of the days she first settled into National City.

Loneliness.

(It isn’t until months later, after Reign is a neutralized threat and they settle their differences over the kryptonite, that Lena feels it again.

Feels the sunrise when she and Kara touch. A fleeting brush of fingers, of shoulders.)

(But oh, it’s enough for now.)


	9. recovering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: _“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”_

Kara loves being Supergirl — she does! — but sometimes, sometimes it’s a little much.

Like fighting a few twelve-foot aliens at the same time. That is not on her to-do list, never on her to-do list, or even her _I want to do this_ list. But she does it. Because she’d rather be beaten down and bloodied and exhausted right after than put innocent people in harm’s way.

But sometimes, sometimes it’s hard. And she’s tired.

(Being a superhero takes its toll. It does, it does, it does.

Especially after the terror that was Reign a few weeks ago.)

She’s so tired she can barely keep herself upright as she flies, her cape unnaturally heavy in her fatigued state, but she’s had worse scrapes than this. This is easy. Not nearly as bad as a solar flare.

Bad enough to make Alex worry though, as she’s wont to do.

( _You should take an hour under the sun lamps at least_.

 _Alex, I’m fine,_ Kara insists, gently pushing her sister aside.

Alex frowns, folds her arms across her chest, her foot tapping anxiously against the ground. _You need to rest. You haven’t been getting enough since Rei—_

 _And I will,_ Kara interrupts before she can finish. _As soon as I get home._ Alex arches a brow, skeptical. _I will!_ )

Kara sighs, squeezes her eyes shut, feels the wind whip through her hair, spread to her cape, fanning the red material across the sunset horizon.

It feels liberating, flying like this, aimless with no duty pressing down on her, heavy against her shoulders. And it wakes her just a little, the tired haze clearing from her head for a moment, enough time to allow her the sight of a bustling National City below.

Cars honking and pedestrians yelling in protest reaching her ears from this height.

She smiles, remembers this is why became Supergirl in the first place. To protect _this_.

(It doesn’t stop her from feeling absolutely drained, but it does reinvigorate her a bit.)

Mustering the remaining energy she has, Kara speeds off in the direction of her apartment, the idea of collapsing in on to her bed and allowing the pillows to swallow her whole sounding more than appealing.

She floats through a window — or what seems like a window, it’s quite a bit wider than she remembers — stumbling when she lands on her feet. Dizzy.

Maybe one of the aliens clocked her harder than she remembers.

She hears someone call her name, quiet and distant, but filled with enough concern that has Kara raising her head, rubbing at her eyes, and oh, it’s Lena, eyes wide with surprised and — have they always been that green?

“Kara?” Lena prompts, eyes flickering across her face, brow furrowed, “Are you all right? Shouldn’t you be at home?”

Kara nods, blinks furiously because oh, she feels so tired. and Lena looks so warm right now, sweater loose and hanging from one shoulder, hair pulled back.

“Fine, fine, don’t worry,” Kara waves her hands in front of her, tries to prop them on her hips, but they slip, and she’s still in her suit and she really wants to sleep. “‘M tired.”

Lena laughs, soft in the space between them. “I can see that. Would you like to…?” She gestures to her bed.

Kara goes to step forward, teeters a bit as she does so, and really, the world shouldn’t be spinning this much, but it _is._ And geez, how hard did those aliens punch her to make her feel this woozy?

“Kara?”

It’s the last thing she hears before her vision fades, darkness pulling her in.

—

“Yes, she’s resting. No, I don’t see any injuries. Yes, Alex. I have a sun lamp in case. You’re the one who helped me install it, remember?”

Kara blinks her eyes open, finds herself surrounded with several plush pillows, soft to the touch as she drags her fingers across them, across the silken blankets.

Lena appears at the doorway, a mix of fondness and exasperation tinging her smile. She gestures to the phone at her ear, and Kara nods, mouths _Alex?_ Lena nods, humming along to whatever Alex is saying on the other end before she hangs up.

“What happened?” Kara asks, groggy as she sits up. She feels better at least. Not as heavy as she had been before, not as tired.

Lena settles herself on the bed, the mattress dipping next to Kara. “Well,” she reaches out, brushes a few stands of hair from Kara’s eyes. “You fainted… straight into my arms?” She laughs. “Kind of.”

Kara leans into her touch, joins in her quiet laughter. “Sorry.” She smiles, sheepish, and Lena simply smiles a little wider, presses forward to knock their foreheads together. “Fight took more out of me than I thought.”

“You did fight three giant aliens without much backup.”

“Yeah… maybe I shouldn’t do that again anytime soon.”

Lena scrunches her nose. “Probably not.” She trails her other hand up Kara’s arm. “Not when you’re still recovering.”

Kara nods absently, focuses on how the night air filtering through the open window is cool against her skin, how Lena is watching her, gaze something soft and tender that tugs at Kara’s chest.

“You know,” Lena whispers then, eyes flicking between Kara’s, the hand at her cheek slips down, finds its place on the side of Kara’s neck, “if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

Kara rolls her eyes, presses their lips together in a firm kiss. “What? No more collapsing in your bedroom?”

Lena laughs again, and Kara smiles, soaking in the sound, feels the rumble of it as though it were her own.


	10. morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: _bed & breakfast_

Kara has a habit of drifting into Lena’s apartment in the early hours of the morning — the times when the sun has yet to make its appearance and the sky is still painted in dark greys.

Lena would wake up, eyes blinking and vision bleary as Supergirl floats through the window Lena left open just for her. She’d smile, shake her head, slide over a couple inches to give Kara ample room to plop down.

Kara would mumble something incoherent before drifting off, and Lena would trace her fingers along the curve of Kara’s cheek, tangle them in the matted blonde tresses by Kara’s temple.

Then they would both wake up and make breakfast together until work calls Lena away, or another person in desperate need of saving calls Kara away.

But today, _today,_ Lena wakes and finds Kara still fast asleep on her side of the bed, body sprawled out on top of the sheets, cape hanging off the edge of the mattress, and face pressed firmly against the pillows.

Lena puffs out a soft laugh, runs a hand through her hair. It’s early yet, the sky outside dusted in the pale pinks and purples of dawn.

She doesn’t remember Kara coming in last night (strange, since Lena always wakes up when Kara settles in beside her, her warmth always drawing Lena closer, closer, closer).

(She remembers the giant alien Kara had to tackle yesterday and the fires and destruction she had to deal with after the alien was shuffled away by the DEO.

Remembers her own pile of work that kept her up way past the time normal people would sleep. Thinks that maybe they were both exhausted last night.)

Lena can’t quite see Kara’s face, but she can imagine the lines of exhaustion under her eyes, the crease between her brows as Kara remains worried even in slumber.

Lena slides a hand across Kara’s shoulders then, a light touch, before she slips out of bed. She can always make Kara breakfast — god knows how large her appetite is after an exhausting day.

—

Kara wakes to bright sunlight and the delicious scent of pancakes. She jerks awake immediately, almost tumbling out of bed in her haste to get up.

She ends up tangled in her cape regardless, and she groans from within her cape cocoon.

“The mighty Supergirl, bested by her own costume.”

Kara peeks out from her mess of hair, grins when she catches Lena leaning against the doorframe, looking soft and warm in the morning sunlight as she watches Kara with a fond smile.

“Lena,” Kara scrambles upward, disentangling herself from her cape, “good morning.”

Lena tilts her head, raven tresses slipping over her shoulder. “Good morning. Hungry?”

Kara laughs. “Always.”

“Sit tight, I’ll bring the pancakes to you.” Lena disappears around the corner and Kara leans back against the headboard.

She should probably change. And maybe shower. She catches a whiff of smoke when she sniffs at her arm and oh, yep. She should definitely shower. She speeds her way to the shower and honestly, super-speed has never been more handy.

She’s back in bed in a fresh t-shirt and sleep shorts by the time Lena reappears with a monstrous pile of pancakes in one hand and bottle of syrup in the other.

She arches a brow at Kara’s change of attire and wet hair, and Kara shrugs. “I owe you new sheets.”

Lena shakes her head with a laugh. “Don’t worry about it.” She passes the plate over to Kara, who feels the drool dripping down her chin. _Rao_ , it smells so good.

Kara takes the plate and smiles gratefully. She stuffs an entire pancake in her mouth and hears Lena laugh again.

“Thank you,” Kara says around a large mouthful, and Lena merely smiles.

“Consider it a reward for a job well done yesterday.” Lena settles on the end of the bed, observes Kara eat with a soft gaze. “You seemed tired, so.” She shrugs a shoulder.

Kara smiles, feels a curl of warmth beneath her sternum. “Really, Lena. Thank you.”

Lena chuckles, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re welcome.”

—

“Maybe next time you can make me breakfast in bed.”

“Ooh, sounds like fun.”

“Please don’t burn down my kitchen, Kara.”

“…No promises.”


	11. persuading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: _“Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, at least kara tried LOL happy pride y'all

Kara watches as Lena moves across the room — back and forth and back again, the skirt of her dress swishing through the air. The sound it creates proves comforting, lulling Kara back to the cusp of sleep.

She blinks to keep her eyes open, to watch the way Lena sweeps her hair over one shoulder, wavy dark tresses cascading down. She wants to touch them, run her fingers through the familiar silky strands. But the bed is so…. _comfortable_. She sinks into her pillow.

Kara doesn’t remember dozing, but she hears a distant “—Kara, have you seen the…?” It cuts off before a brief, soft sensation runs over her cheek. She forces her eyes open, sees Lena leaning over her, her silhouette bathed in a halo of gentle yellow light.

“ _Oh_ ,” Lena breathes. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“’S okay,” Kara slurs, goes sit upright, but Lena slides her fingers down to her shoulder and pushes Kara back down.

“Rest.”

“But—”

“You’ve had a long day, Supergirl,” Lena chides gently. “Get some sleep. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“I promised I’d go with you though.”

Lena smiles, that soft, hushed upturn of her mouth that Kara absolutely adores, and shakes her head. “You need sleep. Besides,” her eyes glitter with mirth, “I don’t think the others would take too kindly to you falling asleep during their pitches.”

Kara pouts, pressing her cheek harder against her pillow. “I can show up later?”

“If you’re feeling up to it, I would love for you to, but for now,” Lena cards her fingers through Kara’s tousled hair, tucks a few errant strands behind her ear, “get some sleep.”

She pulls her hand away, but before she can turn away, Kara catches her fingers, tugs her back. She tilts her head up, cranes forward, and Lena meets her halfway, lips soft and warm against Kara’s. Kara reaches her other hand up, rests her palm against Lena’s fluttering pulse.

When they part for air, Lena lets out a puff of laughter. “Are you trying to convince me to stay?”

“Maybe,” Kara murmurs, resting her forehead against Lena’s, but the moment is ruined when Kara releases a wide yawn.

“Sleep,” Lena says again, pecking the corner of Kara’s mouth before straightening up and reaching for her clutch. “We can continue this later.”  
  
“Is that permission to kiss you whenever I want later?”

Lena pauses at the door, rests her hand on the doorframe. She glances over her shoulder, her expression nothing short of fond. “Perhaps.”

“It’ll be when you least expect it,” Kara grins, snuggling into the blankets. The sooner she sleeps, the sooner she can be with Lena.

Lena’s smile widens, adoration written clear as day in the way she looks at Kara then.

“I look forward to it.”


	12. spying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the title's really original i know (this was a prompt i filled like, last year rip. also i don't think i know how to do enemies to lovers well oops)
> 
> _prompt: [spy au + enemies to lovers + “you know your book is upside-down, right?”]_

lena is far from a field agent.

she vastly (read: _vastly_ ) prefers her lab station, tinkering away at gadgets that provide better utility for people who were far more qualified to work in the field than she was. she’s a researcher, an _inventor_. she is not an agent.

and yet here she is, back pressed flush against the wall of some building she forgot the name of because oh, her heart is beating rapidly in her chest. she swears she’ll caught because of how hard it pulses in her chest, threatening to climb up her throat (and, _you’re going to be fine_ , brainy reassures her).

easy for him to say. he’s not the one out here trying to gather intel.

(and yes, lena understands that the device she created needs her specific dna to operate correctly — because unfortunately she wasn’t able to get around that parameter by the time the agency needed it —but _still._ )

_it’ll just be reconnaissance, gathering as much information as you can._

and lena had stared at jack for a long beat, scoffing. _if i die, i’m going to come back and haunt you specifically._

he held his hands up, shaking them side-to-side with a quick laugh.

it was not nearly as reassuring as he thought it would be.

“ _lena, your window will be here soon._ ”

“thanks, brainy.”

“ _of course. i am your eyes and ears at all times._ ”

lena closes her eyes, fingers reaching to brush against the edge of her gun holster, and oh, she really hopes she won’t have to use it. violence isn’t exactly her… _forte_ (neither is espionage, but well, she can’t always get what she wants).

—

and of course it goes wrong.

she didn’t expect anything less honestly.

because there’s a woman with blonde hair and the bluest eyes lena has ever seen darting into the lab _she’s_ supposed to be infiltrating. and before lena can even get a word in, the woman is gone, disappearing as quickly as she arrived.

“great,” lena mutters. “just great.”

the answering silence is telling enough.

—

she keeps running into that woman. ( _the enemy,_ jack supplies smartly, brainy sighing in the background.)

lena would think that they’d send someone else out instead of her — maybe sam. sam is more equipped for this than she is.

_i have a daughter, lena._

_and i value my life._

but she understood. brushed her fingers through ruby’s hair before sighing loudly, resigned.

lena honestly just wants to retreat into her lab and never leave (despite how glaring the fluorescent lights are and how she wishes she could gouge her eyes out more often than not because oh, so many things _don’t_ work).

but it’s fine.

at least that’s what she keeps telling herself when she’s launched headfirst into the field only to keep falling one step behind to the blonde woman with the brilliant blue eyes, and—

“i know it’s the same person,” lena grouses, pinching the bridge of her nose while she paces the debriefing room.

“how?”

“ _jackie,_ ” she hisses. his smile is too knowing as he waggles his eyebrows.

brainy looks genuinely curious, and sam is typing rapidly across the screen of her phone — a message from ruby, no doubt.

“her eyes are the same,” she eventually mumbles, averting her eyes from the group.

brainy stares. jack snickers.

“i refuse to go out there again.” lena crosses her arms over her chest, shakes her head. “i’m serious.”

brainy lifts a hand. “but lena, this woman-” he rises from his feet, rounds the table to stand before her, and oh, lena loves brainy, she does, but sometimes she’s really not in the mood for his logic- “she has not made a single move against you.”

“she just gets to the stuff we want before you do,” jack adds, unhelpful and still grinning.

lena sighs loudly.

(but it is true.

the last few times they’ve crossed paths, lena wouldn’t hesitate to claim that the blonde even… _smiles_ at her sometimes. a quick tilt of her lips and a flash of teeth before she’s gone.)

(she doesn’t admit that it makes her heart skip a little faster sometimes.)

“maybe if you sent out an experienced field agent, this wouldn’t keep happening.”

she stares pointedly at jack and sam.

sam gestures to her phone without looking up, as though she can feel the heat of lena’s glare on her. and jack — oh jack, her best friend since college — laughs.

“one of us has to stay here and keep our tech up to date.”

“and that just has to be you?”

his smile is too smug.

brainy places a hand on her shoulder, a consoling gesture, but lena shrugs him off with a groan.

“if i die out there, i’m haunting all of you until you perform an exorcism on this entire building.”

“you already threatened that.”

“doesn’t make it any less true.”

—

“ _her eyes really are blue._ ”

“ _jackie._ ”

“ _i’m just stating the truth._ ”

“what are you even doing on this line? i thought only brainy had access to it.”

“ _he went to the loo._ ”

“i hate you.”

“ _and your lady just got away._ ”

lena presses a hand to her forehead and groans, a terribly aggrieved sound that leaves jack without his usual quips.

he even offers a sympathetic pat on her back when she gets back to base.

—

the mark is morgan edge.

lena hates him immediately. she recognizes his type, has had enough experience with corporate millionaires to know that this man definitely doesn’t fall on the charitable side. just looking at him makes her skin crawl. a slimy corporate man. couple that with intentions to poison citizens through their water source and somehow come out the hero with a miraculous cure and you have someone who is equivalent to scum of the earth.

lena waits in the lobby of his building, dressed as casually as possible (a simple blouse and dark wash jeans because she didn’t want to look _too_ out of place), and flicking absently through a magazine.

something about catco worldwide media. that’s all she’s gleaned in the three hours she’s been here, sifting through the same two magazines.

“i’d recommend the traveling brochure in that pile purely because of the food. it’s a lot more interesting than fashion tips.”

lena’s head jerks up from the words beginning to blur on the page to see a pretty blonde girl sitting across from her, a book in hand (she should’ve brought a book, or maybe one of the new science journals that came out recently).

and lena was about to make nothing of the woman who has suddenly struck up conversation with her, but something about her gives lena pause.

her gaze darts across the open, friendly face before her, and her breath catches.

apparently loud enough to get brainy’s attention because his voice is in her ear seconds later.

“ _lena? is everything alright?_ ”

lena can barely hear him with the blood rushing in her ears, because, oh oh _oh._

her eyes are so blue. brilliant and glowing, the softest, clearest shade of blue she’s ever witnessed, and—

“ _you_ ,” she breathes out, quiet and wide-eyed.

the woman before her smiles, warm and as bright as her eyes, and lena is stunned by how nonchalant she seems when she’s clearly on a similar mission as her.

“and you,” she says with a grin.

lena stares dumbly for a moment, jaw working uselessly, and she can almost hear jack now, teasing her about how she always loses full functional capacity when it comes to a pretty girl (which, is not entirely true, but—).

“you know that your book is upside-down, right?”

that was not what she intended to say, but it’s the first thing that made it through the haze in her mind, and oh, she really wasn’t made to be a field agent.

the woman blinks, glances down at her book, and then she laughs, gently, softly, and lena’s heart beats a little too fast, a little too loud. because oh, the sound is musical and lovely, and she really doesn’t want to be sitting in the lobby of morgan edge’s corporate building with a pretty girl across from her, who is also very much a spy.

“we should work together on this one.”

“what?” lena asks blankly, shaking her head to clear the fog from her brain.

the woman nods toward the elevators. “edge. we should collaborate.”

“ _lena…_ ” brainy warns in her earpiece, but lena is finding some merit in teaming up.

she doesn’t have the experience needed in these kind of tasks, as is evidently clear in this woman beating her to the punch at every single turn.

the woman offers a hand, arm outstretched, book forgotten.

lena sucks in a breath and takes it.

—

“kara,” she supplies when they’re dodging security on their way out. she’s breathless and glowing, her mane of golden hair a complete disarray. “my name, i mean.” she points up to her ear with a sheepish grin. “the person currently yelling at me-” kara grimaces- “is my sister.”

lena stares for a moment, catching her breath. notes that brainy is rather quiet in her own ear.

“lena,” she manages between ragged breaths. “my name is lena.”

kara’s eyes flit between hers, considering, a long beat passing between them, and: “that’s a pretty name.”

 _your eyes are pretty, too_ , lena nearly blurts out.

but there’s pounding footfalls echoing in the corridor behind them, and they book it out of the building without another word.

—

“kara.”

“lena.”

“fancy meeting you here.”

kara’s smile rivals the sun, and oh, lena never stood a chance.

(if they exchange numbers after another successful mission, everyone is none the wiser.)

(and if they meet up at a local café a few weeks later, shy smiles adorning their faces, no one has to know either.)

(lena has to silence her phone at one point because both jack and sam don’t know how to take a hint, but her annoyed eye-roll makes kara laugh into her ice cream.

and well, maybe lena will thank them later.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this marks the end of all of my old fics & old prompts. thanks for reading, y'all


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